Page 63 of Kingdoms of Night

“Now it is time for the accord to be signed,” King Oak went on. “And we have decided it is you who should sign on behalf of Swordbrake.”

“Me?” Blackthorn echoed, looking back and forth between his parents.

“This accord is happening because of your actions,” his father said gently. “A new king of Fairweather was able to see a new way to broker peace with us. A new King of Swordbrake will find a way to keep it.”

Farrow gazed up at her husband in stunned silence.

He was going to be King?

Of course, some part of her knew that would happen eventually. He was a Prince, after all. But she was still shocked at the immediacy of it.

“Your mother and I have decided to retire to the small castle,” King Oak went on. “We will be on hand if you need us. Otherwise, we’ll be available to amuse the grandchildren while you rule.”

“We’ll have the coronation right before the official wedding,” Queen Persimmon put in, smiling at Farrow.

Farrow treasured her friendship with her mother-in-law. She knew the queen rarely let anyone in. But planning to bring down the wall seemed to be the first step to healing her aching heart. It had brought the two of them closer than she ever imagined, and more quickly than she would have dared hope.

“A Queen of Swordbrake does not work in anyone’s kitchens,” King Alaric said softly. “Though you have brought much joy and knowledge to the castle, it will be time to take your rightful place by your husband’s side, Farrow. But you are welcome to stop in at any time. I would like for you to always consider my castle as your second home.”

Alaric had often visited her in the kitchens, just as he promised. She had grown fond of the thoughtful young King.

“It has been an honor to serve, Your Majesty,” she said, curtsying low, since she was not a Queen yet.

A Queen? That part had never really occurred to her before. She was going to be a Queen. Never in her wildest dreams…

“This brings us to the obligation you owe to me, Farrow,” Queen Persimmon said sharply. “You have become near to my heart, but you must learn to guard your tongue if you wish to rule Swordbrake. A price must be paid.”

The gathering around the table went silent.

Farrow’s heart pounded, but she managed to smile calmly.

“I await only your instruction, Your Majesty,” she said.

“Farrow Barton, you will bake a glorious wedding cake for your wedding feast,” Queen Persimmon said. “It will be as tall as a man and sweet as a newborn’s giggle. And it will be flavored with persimmon and love.”

Relief washed over Farrow.

King Oak roared with laughter, slapping his thigh.

“As you wish,” Farrow said, bowing low to her queen, with a song in her heart.

Queen Persimmon smiled at her, and for the first time since Farrow had met her, the smile reached her eyes.

Blackthorn pulled Farrow close, pressing his lips to the top of her head as his father called for a servant to bring a quill for the signing of the accord.

Magic danced in her chest at his touch.

“Look,” he breathed, peering over her shoulder at the field beyond.

She turned to find the persimmon flowers were bursting into bloom, tiny pale flowers nodding their little heads in the breeze.

Blackthorn wrapped his arms around her waist, and they looked out over their kingdom together. They were the most unlikely of pairings, but each was made better by the love of the other.

“Are you happy, my love?” Blackthorn asked.

“I’ve never been happier, she replied. “But it all seems so unexpected.”

He turned so that she could look into his eyes. In them, she saw that her true home would always be by his side.

“A very wise woman once told me that a lot of unexpected things go together,” he told her. “If you give them a chance.”

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